


All Too Familiar

by voiceless_terror



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jon/Peter Week 2021, M/M, Other Content Warnings to Be Added, Peter Catches Feelings, Peter and Elias Make a Bet, Precanon- Jon is a Researcher, Smoking, The Lonely and The Eye Fight Over Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Peter’s eyes scan over the files on his desk- personnel files, each with an attached photo. He snatches one from the stack before Elias can protest and makes a show of squinting at the page. “Jonathan Sims. Bit young for you.”Peter is intrigued by Elias's choice in Archivist. A bet is made, and Jonathan Sims finds himself courted by both the Eye and the Lonely.
Relationships: Peter Lukas/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 40
Kudos: 94
Collections: JonPeter Week 2021





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> For JonPeter week, but I don't know what prompt it fits under.

“Archivist giving you trouble?”

Elias’s fingers are at his temple, his eyes closed in what could be called contemplation but is more likely irritation. Peter’s not fond of the woman, quite the opposite, but her ability to rile the man up is unparalleled. He can respect that.

“Should’ve offed her long ago, I say. Getting on in years, isn’t she?”

“And aging me right along with her,” Elias grouses, letting out a much aggrieved sigh. “It’ll be a while yet, but I do have plans for her.”

“And someone else, I see.” Peter’s eyes scan over the files on his desk- personnel files, each with an attached photo. He snatches one from the stack before Elias can protest and makes a show of squinting at the page. “Jonathan Sims. Bit young for you.”

The photo shows a young man barely out of college and desperate to be taken seriously, judging by his haircut and ill-fitting blazer. The flash must have caught him by surprise- he looks disgruntled and confused, eyes squinting ahead. It would almost be endearing to anyone who isn’t Peter. “Well, he’s more to your tastes than Gertrude ever was. Best of luck.”

“Enough!” Elias hisses as he grabs the folder from his hands with surprising intensity, those cold, strange eyes narrowed in contempt. His gaze lingers on the file for a moment, staring down at the attached photo as if it reveals something Peter can’t see. _Oh, this is a_ serious _contender._ Peter wonders what makes him so special. It’s an idle, curious thought; Elias rarely displays such cageyness, preferring instead to keep his cards close to his chest with a knowing smirk. It’s insufferable.

“Tetchy about this one,” he comments, watching as Elias carefully slots the file underneath the others, as if to guard it from Peter. “Any particular reason?”

Elias tenses for one brief, almost imperceptible moment, shoulders encased in a crisp, tailored suit rising at most a centimeter but Peter sees it. Elias has his eyes but for all his lonely solitude Peter can read people. He can find weak spots and exploit them, tiny insecurities laid bare and magnified. And then Elias relaxes, leaning back slightly in his chair as his eyes flicker to Peter’s with a contemplative smugness. _There he is._ “He’s afraid of spiders.”

_That’ll do it._

“Special indeed.” Peter whistles lowly. The Mother’s not to be taken lightly. He can see the draw; few are marked by the web, and even fewer escape with their life. He wonders why she let this one go; from the one photo he’d seen, Jonathan Sims looked utterly unremarkable, which makes him all the more intriguing. Perhaps he should pay him a visit. Recent college graduate, taciturn countenance. Knowing Elias’s predilection for orphans and loners, the boy has little to no social connections. The Institute has always attracted these types, though he risks the ire of its head if he claims it as a hunting ground.

His face must reveal his musings, for Elias’s own hardens. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing,” he says, each word with a clipped precision. _“Don’t.”_

“You think so little of me,” Peter laughs, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. Always suspicious, that man. Rightly so. “I would never interfere with any of your plans.”

He can feel the Watcher’s gaze as he strolls through the halls, taking his time to peer in doorways and flash a pleasant smile at the confused staff. He does not run into Jonathan Sims, nor did he expect to. Elias’s irritation is a satisfaction all its own.

For now. 

* * *

There is a man in the courtyard. 

Objectively, this courtyard is open to anyone, be it staff or guests of the Institute. Objectively, it’s a rare, beautiful day and people _should_ take advantage of it. Objectively, Jon doesn’t have a ‘spot’ he can claim for smoking and insist on being alone. But Jon’s scowl and the wafting scent of cigarette smoke is usually enough to drive people away. 

But this time, there is a _man_ in his _spot._ Jon is not pleased with this development.

He’s tall, stocky in the way a middle-aged man usually is, though there seems to be some muscle lurking underneath his baggy coat. _Is he some sort of vagrant?_ He’s pale, unhealthy so, and it puts Jon on edge. 

But that’s not the most irritating thing about him. That honor goes to his _whistling._

Jon takes his smoke break at precisely ten each morning. _Ten._ Who whistles this early? Certainly not any sane person. No, that’s an activity best left for mid-afternoon or dusk. Mornings are for silence and work, not playtime. This is obscene.

So why, pray tell, does he still go to his spot? He could easily sit on the bench in the center, there’s no one there this early, no one to bother with his little vice. But habits are hard to break, and Jon’s a man who likes routine. He doesn’t want people thinking he can be pushed around. So he walks over, trying to ignore the shiver he gets in the midmorning sun on a perfectly temperate day. Jon doesn’t meet the man’s eyes as he moves closer and despite his trepidation, something is starting to put him at ease. His scent is so _familiar,_ cold and crisp like the foggy mornings of his childhood. His grandmother’s house, not so far from the sea. It brings a sharp pain to his chest as much as it soothes him; she passed months ago and despite their distant relationship, it’s still a sort of grief. Perhaps he didn’t visit her enough in the end. She didn’t deserve to die alone.

Breaking himself from his maudlin thoughts and taking his place at the wall, Jon fishes a cigarette from his pack and lights it in a smooth, practiced motion. The nicotine soothes his fried nerves and he can almost ignore the man in that old jacket whistling some jaunty tune and trespassing in his spot. There’s no greeting, no nod of acknowledgment. Jon smokes his cigarette to the stub until its acrid odor all but wipes away that familiar scent, and he leaves.

He finds himself humming all afternoon.

* * *

Jon’s an interesting fellow.

Peter can see the remnants of the Web clinging to his shoulders in an almost possessive shroud. The Mother is usually more subtle, but this one screams _mine, mine._ Elias will have his work cut out for him, that’s for sure. But his machinations have always bordered on unnecessarily complex- the man enjoys a challenge. Enough time under the Watcher’s gaze and you’ll start to think it home. 

And yet the man still calls to him. There’s a vulnerability in the way he holds himself, how he stubbornly clings to his little spot and yet makes himself small. There’s Lonely in him, Peter can feel the itch of it in his skin. He could snap him up quite easily if he tried. But he’s always favored a longer game when he can find it; it brings so much _satisfaction_ to see a soul slowly eaten away until it fades, unremembered and bereft. There’s a quiet dignity to it, and Jon would wane so beautifully.

On his third visit, Jon breaks his silence.

“Why are you here?”

He’s got a pleasant voice, if a bit posh. Jon probably thinks it makes him sound older, but he’s yet to land on a confident enough tone. He’ll get there one day. In any case, he’ll be perfect for reading statements. _Another point to Elias._

“No idea what you mean,” he replies with a smile and he can see the boy is startled. He clearly wasn’t expecting a cheery answer, which Peter finds a bit insulting. He’s not that rude. “Just taking in the fresh morning air like yourself.”

“I’m smoking.” Jon waves his cigarette as if Peter had yet to see it. “In what world is that _fresh?”_

“Suppose I’m used to it,” he shrugs, leaning more casually against the wall and meeting Jon’s intense gaze. It’s heavy, though not so much as Elias’s is. _You’ve got the Eye in you yet._ He’s had practice with these types. “Sailors are fond of cigarettes, when they can get them.”

“Is that why you smell?” Jon blanches, as if realizing the rudeness of his question. Peter pauses, unsure of what he means. He’s showered, he’s not _dirty._ “I-I mean, it’s just- you remind me of the sea, is all.”

The words make him freeze. He shouldn’t be able to pick up on that, Peter’s been careful not to slip too far into the fog. He’s perceptive. Peter doesn’t usually like being seen, or in this case, _smelled,_ but Jon’s an interesting case. He wonders how he’d fare on the Lonely’s shores.

“Smoking kills, you know.” He ignores Jon’s question, relishing the way his eyes narrow. “Nasty habit.”

“Hear secondhand’s just as bad,” he replies with a snarl, dropping his cigarette and stamping out the dying embers with a scuffed brown shoe “So _maybe_ you should find another spot to loiter.”

“You’re right.” He abruptly turns to leave, not sparing a glance back in Jon’s direction. Best to keep him on his toes. It’s a cloudy day and Peter’s feeling quite hungry. For once he has business that keeps him in the city, why not have a little fun in the meantime? 

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text he won’t answer. He never does, and to be quite honest, he doesn’t really know how.

**Elias Bouchard:** _What are you playing at?_

Peter chuckles to himself, slipping the phone back into his coat. 

_What indeed._


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has another run-in with his mystery man. Peter and Elias have a talk.

Jon doesn’t see the man for the next three weeks. And _no,_ he’s not curious about him in the slightest. He likes his solitary breaks, he doesn’t need some strange man breathing down his neck and whistling in his ear. It’s better this way. Jon doesn’t think about him at all. 

Until Wednesday, when he comes back.

He’s not standing in Jon’s spot and is instead on a bench in the center of the courtyard, basking in the sun like some sort of starved plant, still with that strange pallor. Jon thinks he should see a doctor about that. 

It gives him pause and the man locks eyes with him, as if sensing his moment’s hesitation. He leans forward and begins to speak in that cheery, empty voice. “Jonathan Sims, I take it?”

_How does he know my name?_ His heart stutters in his chest and he freezes up, paranoid thoughts running through his head before realizing his name badge is hooked to his pants pocket. Yes, the man must have seen it the last time he was here. _But was he wearing it then?_ Jon’s prone to forgetting it, much to the ire of the front desk.

“Yes?” His voice comes out as more of a squeak, so he tempers it with a scowl and refuses to move. “Who are you?” The man’s still smiling and he pats the bench, as if motioning for Jon to sit beside him. _Like that’ll happen._

“Lukas. Peter Lukas, at your service.”

Lukas? _That’s a donor,_ something in the back of his mind whispers. _A big one._ There’s a bronze plaque in the lobby of the Institute, listing a ‘Special Thanks’ to their most illustrious patrons. Fairchild at the top. Lukas right after. 

And now Jon’s going over their last conversation where he’d been so brusque and rude, sneering at the man and waving his cigarette around like a lunatic. _Is that why you smell? Christ, Sims, you’re lucky you still have a job._ What if the man complained to Elias? Should he apologize now? Turn tail and run? No, that would definitely be worse. 

“Come now, I don’t bite. Sit.” Jon obeys, making stilted steps to sit awkwardly at his side. When a wealthy man who likely controls your job asks you to sit, you sit. Jump: how high? He knows this dance, though it’s not often he gets a chance to practice the steps. Jon opens his mouth to apologize for his previous behavior, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Elias has told me _so_ much about you.” Jon’s heart skips another worrying beat. _Elias talks about me?_

“R-Really?” He stutters, his face heating up. Jon’s not unaware of Elias’s interest, he knows it’s unusual that the head of the institute talks to him so often. Well, _now_ he is, after Sasha’s snide comments a few months prior. But the man’s knowledge of the supernatural is unparalleled and Jon could listen to him speak for hours. Has, in fact. Who wouldn’t want his input? He’s well aware of the rumors, heard mutterings that he’s ‘sleeping his way to the top’ and ‘angling for a raise.’ As if Jon would ever do a thing like that, and he’s sure most of the others would, given the chance. It’s not Jon’s fault Elias thinks him promising. He doesn’t like to boast, but it does make him feel a bit special. And now he’s discussing him with donors and the Lukas family, no less? The thought both thrills and terrifies him.

“Tell me, what is it that you do here?” Peter’s arm is slung casually over the back of the bench, tantalizingly close to Jon’s shoulder. To any onlooker it would seem they were intimate, or at the very least friends. Jon doesn’t know how to feel about it. “Research, yes? Any interesting cases?”

“Not usually.” He laughs self-consciously, crossing his arms and looking down to the ground. It’s true, most of the cases end up being debunked or elaborate hoaxes. But Peter Lukas is a donor, and he’s not going to want to hear about his money going to waste. He doesn’t want Elias to think he finds his job _boring,_ quite the opposite. So he brightens, pasting on as convincing a smile as he can and nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. 

“W-Well, there was something that came across my desk last week...” Jon trails off, very much aware that what he finds interesting, most others do not. What if Peter’s just being polite? What if he didn’t _want_ an answer? But the man smiles encouragingly, and Jon finds himself leaning into that cold and strangely welcoming familiarity.

“We received a report on a minor haunting in Hackney,” Jon begins, hands fidgeting with nerves. He lowers his voice to a staid, academic tone that he hopes gives him a bit more authority. “A jewelry store. Their cases had cracked in the night, as if under an enormous amount of pressure. But nothing was missing, and there were no signs of forced entry. The store has a rather elaborate alarm system-” It gets easier to speak as he goes on, something about the man puts Jon at ease. He can’t read him at all, doesn’t know if his smile is genuine, if his noises of appreciation are actually appreciative. But he nods in all the right places. He finds himself excitedly relaying his notes and theories, though he stumbles a bit at the mention of Simon Fairchild, forgetting his present company. He shouldn’t have mentioned him, he didn’t want it to seem like he’s trash-talking the other illustrious families. A flash of something Jon can’t quite place flits in Peter’s eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it arrives. He nods again, and Jon continues.

It’s only when he sees people leaving the institute, presumably for lunch, that he realizes how long he’s been out here, lecturing this man and waving his hands about. _How embarrassing._ Sasha’s going to have a fit, he was supposed to help her search through records and here he is wasting some donor’s time with his nonsense. He abruptly cuts himself off, his face once again flushing when the man speaks.

“Dear me, you came out for a smoke and I’ve taken up all of your time!” More like Jon’s taken up all of his- why is this man so genial? It’d be unnerving if he didn’t appreciate the chance to talk uninterrupted with what seemed to be a receptive party. Peter pats the back of the bench in lieu of Jon’s shoulder and stands, stretching in an exaggerated motion and reaching out to give him a hand. 

“I-I don’t mind,” Jon replies, staring for just a beat too long before taking the man’s proffered hand and being pulled to his feet with a strong grip. Such a gentleman. Such rough, cold hands. Peter drops it as soon as he’s standing, and Jon feels both distant and close to him all at once. 

“Well, then.” Peter turns on his feet and walks away without so much as a goodbye. Jon stares at his retreating figure, feeling cold and awkward and strange, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Thinking he should’ve let the man speak at least once, shouldn’t have bored him with his inane chatter. He hopes this doesn’t get back to Elias.

As he walks back to the library, he feels an odd chill settle over him. The faces he passes are blurred, nondescript. The library’s his favorite sanctuary, a place where things are seen and understood and studied, where he can sit for hours going over the finer details of a case in comfort. But now it feels cloying, uncomfortable. He tunes out Sasha’s gripes and can’t concentrate on the page before him. And he can’t seem to get _warm._ He throws on a hoodie, draws the sleeves over his hands, ignores everyone’s looks.

It doesn’t help. 

* * *

  
  


“I thought you’d have left by now.” 

Elias has seen Peter three times this past month. It’s three times too many. Elias has been keeping an eye on him, since it seems he’s taken an unfortunate interest in his current project, Jonathan Sims. Practically undid all of his progress on the boy, who’d been marked so prettily by the Mother- a present, just for him. Jon had shivered in the library for hours that day, he’d had to spend the better part of an afternoon discussing a meaningless case to chase away that distant look in his eyes. Jon so appreciates their little meetings, and he isn’t about to lose him to Peter’s wretched deity. 

The man himself seems utterly at ease, slumped in the chair directly across from his desk. He’ll have to have it cleaned _._ One hand taps out a nonsense pattern on the arm of it and he shoots him an infuriating grin. Elias knows what this is about. Shouldn’t have let the man in, really, but it’s a slow day. He’s not immune to boredom. 

“Oh, but there’s so much to do here!” Peter enthuses with a mocking smile. “And I have a fun little proposal for you-” Elias’s response is immediate.

_“No.”_

Peter tilts his head in mock outrage. “You haven’t even heard it!”

Elias doesn’t need to. Peter’s games are always the same, predictable and unnecessary. Elias always wins in the end. But there’s no need to add obstacles to his own plan, and this one is a delicate thing. This one, he thinks, might come to fruition. _Finally._ “Don’t you have some port to haunt?”

“I understand what you see in him now. He’s a perfect choice, really.” Peter leans back in his seat, hands neatly clasped in his lap. He really thinks Elias is going to play along with him. _Stupid man_. But he can’t help the possessiveness that grips him, try as he may. Jonathan Sims is _his_ to play with and throw away if need be, though he hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“Leave him alone.” The vehemence of his response surprises him and Peter, of course, notices. 

“That’s the plan, eventually.”

Elias meets his eyes with an unflinching stare. He knows Peter finds it unnerving, though he hides it quite well. “I don’t have time for this.”

Peter groans dramatically and gestures with a dismissive wave. “Oh, don’t be boring. We haven’t had a good wager in so _long.”_ His tone becomes wheedling and he leans forward, as if imploring Elias to see reason. “And I think you’ll find this one quite interesting.” 

It’s not. Peter’s a fool if he thinks Elias will agree to anything of the sort. He doesn’t dignify him with a response, and Peter takes his silence as an invitation to continue his plea.

“Suppose it’s more of a game, really. You see, Jonathan Sims is _achingly_ lonely. You can feel it on him, can’t you?”

“No more than any other researcher.” It’s a lie, but one Elias tells smoothly. He’s practiced in this.

“He’s more isolated than most and you know it. Taciturn little thing, isn’t he? Positively rude.” A brief flash of amusement passes before Elias can stifle it. _Is that why you smell?_ He delighted in Peter’s offense. _“_ And that’s why I think he’ll be perfect for me.” 

Elias lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You think I’m going to let you seduce one of my researchers for _fun?”_

“Come on. You know you’ve got other candidates. why not? Certainly will liven things up around here. A year is all I ask.”

“A _year.”_

“These things take time, you know this. And I’m not saying you can’t continue your little training sessions- you can talk to him too. You’ve even got the advantage, one might say. Do you really think I’m that much of a danger to you?” It strikes a nerve, exactly as its designed to. 

“No,” he bites out, narrowing his eyes. “And that’s why this whole enterprise is a waste of time.”

“You’re no fun.” It’s Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, standing with his characteristic languor, which he knows annoys him. “What would convince you, hm? How can I sweeten the deal?”

Elias opens his mouth for an immediate refusal but then he pauses. Considers. The Lukas family is powerful, and he _does_ enjoy using them. Is it enough of a temptation though, to derail his plans? Peter’s trapped many a lost soul, and would do the same to Jon quite easily if given the chance. But Jonah has played this game for much, _much_ longer, with more precision and to better results. He’ll win, there’s no doubt about that. Jon’s so enamored with him, after all. He’s seen the awe in his eyes when Elias deigns to speak to him, when he’s pulled aside in the hallway for a greeting. Smiling and stuttering, his face turning that lovely shade of red at an innocent hand to the shoulder. 

And should said plan come to fruition, he’s going to need a few allies. A few people who owe him. And Peter’s a man that pays his debts, however begrudgingly. 

“A favor,” he replies, smiling placidly. “Of my choosing, at a later date.” Open ended. Very dangerous.

Peter throws his head back, barks out a laugh, and Elias knows he has him. He continues. “And if, god forbid, you happen to win?”

“You won’t get that security update to Artifact Storage you’ve been after.” Money. It would certainly be a loss, but it's really all a Lukas has to bargain with, unless you have a need for their dreaded entity. Which Elias will, at some point, and maybe sooner than he thinks. “And I get an Archivist.”

“He won’t be an Archivist if he’s with you.” But that won’t be the case. Elias will have Jonathan Sims, and another mark in his ledger if all goes well. 

“No,” Peter muses, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. “I suppose not.” 

* * *

“Sims. You’ve got a guest out in the lobby.”

Jon jolts in his seat, staring at the librarian with some amount of incredulity. Sasha looks up from her book, brow knitted in confusion. “Guest?” she repeats, as if the librarian had been talking to her. Jon shares her confusion; he doesn’t even have friends, really, and much less _guests._ He’s a researcher, for Christ’s sake-

“A Mr. Lukas.” She gazes at him with a knowing eye, her words heavy with import. Sasha’s eyes widen. Jon feels a strange thrill at the name, from either excitement or dread. Perhaps both. He’s been going over their conversations for the better part of a week, wondering what he did wrong. _If_ he did anything wrong. 

“What?” Sasha doesn’t bother lowering her voice and shoots him a bitter smile. They haven’t been on the best of terms this past week. “First Bouchard, and now a _Lukas?_ My, you’re quite the charmer. Really snatching up those influential men, aren’t we-”

“Don’t you have records to hack?” he snipes as he stands up, throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Someone’s privacy to invade?”

Her mouth snaps shut. Jon doesn’t have time to feel guilty.

He has a guest, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this update! Rest assured it will be finished, albeit at a weird pace considering all the things I have going on and the upcoming, soul-crushing finale. Who knows, maybe it'll inspire me to write more. Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment if you liked!
> 
> You can find me @voiceless-terror on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Jon/Peter! Hopefully not my last. This was supposed to be a oneshot but quickly got out of control. It should only be about 3-5, depending on how I chop it up. Let me know how you like!
> 
> You can find me @voiceless-terror on tumblr. Thanks for reading!


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